


Role Play (Enemies to Lovers extra)

by Caramelized



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Outtake, Sad yet hot, Smut, surprisingly sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4621680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caramelized/pseuds/Caramelized
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen visits a prostitute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Role Play (Enemies to Lovers extra)

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extra for Enemies to Lovers. I like this idea but didn't want to make it canon... decide for yourself if it happens or not. Takes place shortly after Adamant. 
> 
> If you haven't read Enemies to Lovers, here's a quick orientation for the pwp: Cullen has slowly been growing closer to Kit, the Inquisitor. They finally have sex, but each interprets the act differently. Cullen thinks they're consummating an ongoing relationship. Kit knows she's about to do something that will make him hate her, and she's seizing what she thinks will be her one and only chance with him. 
> 
> After the sex, Kit does the thing & Cullen does, indeed, hate her. Except he's also still in love with her. And he tries to deal with his muddled emotions by visiting a prostitute.

He wore his hair unstyled, a curly rumple on his head, and the clothing of a minor courtier. Rings, buttons, anything that revealed his identity had been stripped away--including his sword belt. 

A gifted observer would still mark him as a Templar--an ex-Templar--at ten paces. But how many of those would he really meet on a ten minute walk through a slightly-seedy quarter of Val Royaux? Even if they could guess at his background, they wouldn't know his name. He was a stranger in this city.

His destination was a mid-range brothel. The madam took one look at him and ushered him into a small, private sitting room--"Nothing to be nervous about," she assured him, almost sisterly. "Just tell me what you need."

"A woman who is willing to play a role." His neck felt hot, his collar tight. He resisted the urge to fidget. "To recreate a memorable..."

"I understand." The madam patted him on the arm. "What kind of girl? Icy or passionate, talkative or quiet? Tell me as much as you can."

"Temperamental," said Cullen. "Blunt to the point of rudeness, but also delighted by small things, with a ready smile. The woman you choose should be willing to pretend that she is in love, and also to be... very angry."

"A little bit off the beaten track, but not too unusual," said the woman. "Wait right here, will you? Just take a seat and... would you like something to drink?"

"Whiskey."

The madam bustled out. An elven servant entered with a tumbler, half full, and a few minutes later the madam reappeared with a beautiful young woman at her back. The prostitute looked nothing like Kit--he hadn't described her appearance--but she had a bold way of moving and an expressive face.

Cullen stood and crossed to her, stood very close, looking for signs of unease. Even women who were attracted by his size were also, occasionally, afraid of it... but not Kit. She'd feigned fear so often, especially at first, that it had taken him a long time to notice the difference.

The prostitute tensed, but she notched her chin up, too. A hint of defiance. Close enough.

Cullen nodded to the madam. The prostitute took his tumbler and guided him up several flights of stairs, then down a short, hushed hallway. Not a sound leaked through the closed doors; his feet sank silently into the thick carpet.

"Wards?" Cullen asked.

"Naturally."

She opened a door and ushered him into a bedroom of medium size. Plain, good quality furniture and the bed looked freshly made, the linens crisp white.

"Would you like to give me a name?" she asked, easing the door shut as she followed him inside. "Since I'm to be playing a role."

"No. I don't think..." He wanted to recreate his night with Kit, he didn't want to fool himself. Didn't think he could. "I wouldn't believe it."

"A pet name?" The prostitute reached for the belt of the robe she wore. "Darling, baby, princess?"

Cullen snorted. "I never got that far with... her."

"All right." She fiddled with the knot, flipping the tails idly back and forth. "Why don't you tell me how you'd like this to go?"

"There are, ah..." He pulled at his collar, rubbed the back of his neck. "Two phases."

"Here, now." The prostitute dimmed the lamps, casting the room into near darkness, and folded his hands around the tumbler of whiskey. "Have a drink. Sit down. Take your time and don't worry. I've heard it all and I'm here to make you happy."

She wrapped an arm around his waist and maneuvered him onto the bed, sitting down beside him and cuddling close. She held him naturally, as though they'd known one another for years.

Cullen took a long swallow of whiskey. He closed his eyes and tried to frame it as a report; he'd had to describe a fairly wide array of sordid scenes over the years. "At first you should be quite rude. Call me names, and if I do anything you like--anything that might ordinarily prompt a compliment, I mean--you should immediately tell me how much you hate it. I will bring you to orgasm, or try to; you will hate that as well."

"I'm beginning to understand," said the prostitute wryly.

"That's a good tone to take," said Cullen. "After that, and presuming I haven't thought better of this whole idea, I will want to... she would say fuck, so that's the word I'll use. At that point, once I'm inside you, you should pretend to be very deeply in love. If you're willing to say that you're in love with me, do so. That I'm the best you've ever had, that you'll never want anyone else... that sort of thing."

A long pause.

"Did she leave you?" the prostitute asked. "Or cheat?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Take another sip and give me the drink," said the prostitute. "I'll set it on the cabinet. When I come back, we'll start."

He obeyed. The alcohol burned in his throat, but he hadn't consumed enough to impede his performance. The prostitute swished away from the bed and Cullen began to unbutton his doublet.

"Who said you could do that?" The prostitute spoke in a new tone of voice, lower and harder. She tried to slap his hands away from the buttons.

Cullen hesitated. It wasn't quite right. He continued unbuttoning his doublet.

The prostitute pulled one side of her robe open, revealing her bare breast. Plump, with a small tight nipple. Beautiful. She began to pluck at the nipple while glaring at him.

"Better," he said, peeling the doublet off and tossing it aside. "Will you say, 'Go ahead, see what happens'?"

She braced her hands on his shoulders and settled one knee between his legs, swinging all of her weight onto it and bringing her breast very close to his lips. "Go ahead," she said, with just the right note of warning. "See what happens."

His cock twitched.

He leaned forward and took her nipple into his mouth, began to suckle. She gasped. "Sweet Maker, how do I insult _that_?"

He let go, cupped the breast instead. Firm, a good weight in his hand. Her nipple glistened obscenely. "Tell me that you'd kill me if you thought you could get away with it." 

He pulled the knot of her robe open and stretched his neck toward the other breast but she didn't produce the required phrase. He stilled. 

"I'd kill you if I thought I could get away with it!" she spat, her voice tight with strain. Afraid.

" _No_." Cullen set his hands on her hips and pushed her away. "She _could_ have killed me very easily. She _would_ have gotten away with it."

That... was a new thought. If she'd been able to catch him without lyrium in arm's reach, he'd have been helpless against her magic. Maybe _with_ lyrium; after Adamant, he couldn't be sure. 

The prostitute frowned.  

"Say it like you're telling me a secret," Cullen suggested.

"I'd kill you..."   
  
Cullen huffed out a breath and stood. This had been a terrible idea. Convincing a prostitute to mimic Kit wasn't going to exorcise the craving. It only exposed his perversity to a stranger.

"I'd kill you if I thought I could get away with it," the prostitute said, warm and silky, knowing.

Perfect.

He turned, almost drunk on the sound. Instantly hard, full of want instead of-- _grief_ felt like the right word, though Kit was alive and well and only a few miles away. 

The prostitute smiled oddly. Lopsided, half-cynical and half-wistful. "You great stupid brute," she continued, drawing him closer with each word. Not Kit's words, but so similar. Almost perfect. "You have no idea what you're talking about."   
  
"I don't?" He pushed her onto the bed, spread her robe open, crawled over her. On all fours, like the brute she called him. 

"Insult you," she scoffed. "You don't listen to a word I say."

He groaned. Mouthed her breast again, less carefully this time. Lapped at it, sucked hard, the sound of his own breathing harsh in his ears. He had to--ah, there. Maker's breath, but this woman was good at her job. She was hot and wet between her legs, ground eagerly into the heel of his palm, moaned when he split her. 

"Tell me this will end badly," he instructed, pumping two fingers into her. He was painfully hard now, heavy and almost hurting with it. He'd been on edge since he'd been with Kit. He wanted her but he couldn't have her. Not ever again. But he could have this. 

"What do you mean, this will end badly?" The prostitute laughed, a cruel edge to the sound. "It already has, hasn't it? If I were the woman you really want, I'd claw your eyes out right now, wouldn't I?" 

He hooked his fingers inside of her and found her clit, experimented until he caught the right angle and she moaned, stretching like a cat. Sinuous and supple, her eyelids fluttering shut, long lashes fanning across her cheeks. She was exceptionally lovely.

"I've figured it out," she told him, breathy, rocking her hips, legs splayed wide. "If you fuck me, I'll tell you the secret." 

Cullen narrowed his eyes. 

"I'd bet--" she cut herself off, tensed and shivered. "Maker, I'm getting close. Keep it up and I'll really come for you. Those fingers. A little rough and _so_ big." 

"Tell me that if I don't fuck you right now, you'll set my hair on fire."   
  
"You'd deserve it." She gripped his arms now, digging her nails into his biceps. And then, as her expression began to stiffen, "Bastard." 

Cullen shuddered. How did she know what to say? 

She came easily--either she was the most proficient faker he'd ever met, or she'd legitimately given herself up to pleasure. Her throaty groan sounded practiced, rehearsed, but the throbbing, sucking heat of her quim was real enough. He held himself back, milked her orgasm until she began to relax, raised his eyebrows to ask permission.

"Yes." She wrapped her hand around his cock, squeezed tightly before moving him into position. "Now." 

He thrust. She was hot and slick, ready, and he sank into her. Smooth but tight, and she wrapped herself around him. Arms and legs, so much soft skin. Maker, if he could just hold Kit again--put his arms around her--it would be enough.

"There, that's good, yes," the prostitute murmured, soft now, taking her cue. She hooked one leg around his knee and rubbed at his shoulders. "That's just right. Perfect. Everything I imagined and more."   
  
Cullen's throat tightened. He shut his eyes. 

"Shh, shh, it's okay." She moved against him, clamped her inner muscles tight around his cock. A harlot's trick, and it felt amazing. "I love you, don't you know that? I've loved you all along. This is exactly what I want. _You_ are exactly what I want." 

He let his forehead fall to the crook of her neck.  _I love you so much_ , Kit had said. _You are so good to me. Oh, that's so good, oh_.

"Don't you want me?" the prostitute coaxed. "I can feel how much you want me. Mmm, so big--"

He clapped his hand over her mouth. 

She bit his palm. That helped, brought him back to the present. He began to move, tension coiling low in his belly with each thrust.

 _This is the happiest I've ever been,_ Kit had said, peppering him with kisses _. I could do this forever. We fit, don't we? Just right._

He paused, a whine forcing its way up his throat. People said all kinds of foolish things while they were having sex. Nonsense, false declarations, whatever came to mind. He shouldn't have taken her seriously, but he had believed every word. And now he couldn't forget. 

He pulled out, rolled to the side. Sat with his palms braced to either side, unseeing. His cock slapped against his belly, sticky and angry red. 

"What's this?" The prostitute crouched beside him, rubbed his back comfortingly. "What's the matter?"

"Would you--with your hand?" Cullen asked. "Won't take long." 

She shifted, pressing her breasts into his bare back, and took him in a firm grip. Even after the interruption, it only needed a few hard strokes. A quick flash of pleasure and then... and then he felt awful, worse than before. Emptier and needier, the pain fresher. 

The prostitute produced a damp towel from somewhere, cleaned him. Gentle but impersonal; a proper professional. 

"Do you want to know the secret?" she asked, pulling on her robe. "The trick to acting like this woman you can't have?" 

"I--yes. I do." 

"I said every line you gave me as though it were some foreign translation of 'I love you'," said the prostitute. "Just--random, disconnected sounds that all meant the same thing."

Cullen swallowed. 

"No need to thank me." The prostitute knotted the belt, tugged the silk into place. "Insight is free, but the sex is five sovereigns. Payment's due now, but no need to hurry out." 

Cullen fished the coins out of his purse. Dressed quickly, eager to leave, but once he reached the street he found the thought of his hotel room--and all the trappings of his identity, the ones that had been so hard to leave behind--repellant. 

This situation was untenable. So the situation had to change. 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
